Disconnect
by shedtheirony
Summary: Set after Glease - possible spoilers, and trigger warnings for self harm and suicidal thoughts. After Kurt tells Blaine that he doesn't trust him anymore, Blaine feels as though life is no longer worth living. After an unexpected attempt to take his own life, Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel, along with others, struggle to get past the pain and start anew.
1. Chapter 1

Blaine Anderson felt his heart drop as soon as the words escaped Kurt's ever enticing lips.

"I don't trust you anymore."

It had been as though Kurt's lips were moving but the sound had taken double the time to reach Blaine's ears.

And now as he stood out on the balcony of his spacious, meticulously organized room. It had always bothered him that there seemed to be no personality to it at all. But over the years he'd come to accept that that's just how it was. Your room supposedly said a lot about your person. Or so he was told.

In which case, this must be exactly who he was.

Held together by tradition and rules - expectations. Lackluster and void of emotion. Locked up without a key in sight. This is who he was.

And without Kurt? That's all he'd ever be.

It wasn't something he could live with.

At the moment even, he could barely breathe. It came in short gasps as he peered longingly at the ground so far below. It would be simple really.

Just jump.

He leaned forward on the rail.

No one would even miss him.

It would take his parents weeks, no - months! To find the body.

And as his decomposing progressed farther into the earth he would become more and more acceptable to humanity and most of all to his parents.

It was a win / win really.

All he had to do was jump.

End it all for good.

At the thought Blaine leaned forward further still. His eyes closed lightly as he let the wind nap playfully across his cheeks. Yes, he thought firmly.

It was time.

But then there was a pause - a break in the tension as a voice gradually rang through to his ears.

"Blaine!" It said. And perhaps it was loud but Blaine heard it as sung.

"BLAINE! Blaine please!"

Okay, Blaine thought suddenly.

That definitely wasn't sung.

But in his current trance like state Blaine didn't dare to open his eyes.

Then suddenly, after what seemed like seconds, there was a soft hand resting on his shoulder. Blaine nearly flinched at the realization - his eyes opening forcefully and more than likely by mistake.

"Blaine, please look at me! I —"

The words were closer still.

And as he looked unwillingly towards the musically enthralling words, Blaine knew that he was seeing the most beautiful thing in the world.

And suddenly, life was worth living again.


	2. Chapter 2

An hour later found Blaine on the balcony, just as he had been as Kurt rushed up to save him from what had certainly looked like…

Kurt didn't want to think about what it had looked like.

Even now, the leggy, thin as a rail yet chiseled boy bit his lower lip. Tears threatened to leak from the corners of his burning eyes as he stared helplessly at the dark haired boy who had finally been convinced away from the rail but was now huddled into it's corner and staring bleakly between the bars. Probably still looking at the ground. What was it about the ground?

Foolish, Kurt thought to himself. The answer was right in front of him. And if you you squinted just the right way, with unshed tears battling the dam, Blaine Anderson was still the exact replica of an angel - still somehow in his sparkling white sweater. Something that in itself alone had almost been enough to make Kurt fall quickly back in love with him.

Not that he'd ever fallen out.

But Kurt had been taught to respect himself even after all that had happened in his still young life. His person meant something, according to the people he loved and looked up to most - even if Kurt himself had a hard time believing it.

So he had been trying.

So, so hard to do this for himself as well as all of them. It was a lot to live up to. Sometimes he didn't think he would.

But he was trying.

And even to him, being cheated on by the love of his life didn't seem like something that should slip past and be allowed to bend the rules. But look where that had gotten him. Choking on a ragged breath, Kurt whispered to himself quietly as a shaky hand reached slowly down to his pocket.

"_All that work and what did it get me?_"

Sniffling as quietly as he could at the cold winter breeze and tear stung cheeks, Kurt finally found the smooth surface of his cell phone and dragged it out slowly.

This was not something he wanted to do.

But Blaine was in trouble.

He knew that now. And looking at the brave, confident boy that he'd met what seemed like years ago now, Kurt new that he had no choice.

Dialing clumsily with frozen fingers, Kurt made the call that would change both of their lives forever - for better, or for worse.

The phone rang only once before the other line picked up.

"Hello? Kurt? How're ya, buddy? Everything okay?"

There was a pause as Kurt tried to gather himself.

Those words had broken the dam he'd been fighting so hard to not let fall.

"Dad…"

His words wavered.

"Kurt?! What's wrong?"

His father suddenly sounded panicked and through everything it lit a small flame in Kurt's rigid and terrified heart.

"I… we, Dad - I need help. Can you come?"

"Kurt! Of course, I'll be right there - let me grab the keys. What's the address son, I'll be right there!"

"You know the address Dad, I'm - I'm at Blaine's. Please hurry."

Burt's heart caught in his throat.

"20 minutes at most Kurt, please, what's going on? You need to give me something kid — I've already had a heart attack once, don't wanna repeat it again."

Kurt winced at the reference and closed his eyes.

"Dad, Blaine's out on his balcony with me. I — when I got here he was, Dad… he," Kurt stopped for air, trying to breath through a stream of tears.

"Kurt?"

"Dad, he looked like he was going to jump."

Kurt sobbed openly now.

And suddenly, speed limits meant nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine Anderson had become numb.

There he was, trapped in the corner of his balcony and unable - for who knows what reason - to move.

Something was wrong.

Very, very wrong.

Kurt's sudden appearance had snapped the dark haired boy out of whatever hypnosis he had entangled himself in for all of 30 seconds. Just enough time for Blaine to remember why he was there, succumb to the shock of it all, and retreat to the same corner he was in now as he peered longingly through the space between the metal guard rails. And as he lost himself in his own mind, Blaine knew simple this - that there was no going back now, and that he should have jumped when he'd had the chance. That brief moment in time where he'd looked oblivion in the eye and chosen to procrastinate.

It had been beautiful there.

Peaceful, almost - the nothing that it was.

And now he was back in the present.

On the ground and trembling. Wondering -

what the hell was wrong with him that made him act like this.

His life was good, for the most part, right?

Hell. He had a lot more than some people his age, didn't he?

No.

No, he thought as his hands gripped cold metal.

He thought he might be shivering.

He didn't have what they had.

Because most people his age were loved, by their parents and family if anything else. But Blaine Anderson didn't even have that, and the worst part of it was, that no one else seemed to notice.

Losing Kurt had been the final straw.

And worst of all was that Blaine knew he'd brought it all upon himself.

There was no one else to blame for this.

Just him.

Him alone.

And oh how he was alone.

Gulping loudly without realizing, Blaine stared into the distance. At some point it must have registered in his mind that a truck had pulled frantically into his long, intimidating driveway. The driver's door had slammed loudly enough, and then there had been running. Hadn't there?

But Blaine was too lost to care.

His fingers scratched against the rail, piercing skin, and he didn't bother to try and stop it. All he wanted was to remain numb, and so he did.

Blaine Anderson was a statue.

Trembling and cold - but a statue none the less.

And he'd remain that way until the very end.

There was no going back.


	4. Chapter 4

Burt Hummel met Kurt at the top of an impressive wooden staircase in the Anderson home after having struggled to take the steps two at a time.

Now he stood in front of his son, panting from his efforts to get there faster but trying not to let it show.

Kurt had this habit of feeling like he needed to fix everything and protect everyone he loved.

It was an admirable quality, really. Though more often than not it wound up being detrimental to his son's own physical and mental health, which was something Burt didn't much care for. Not one bit. So now in this high tension situation, Burt told himself that he needed to remain calm and in control.

For his son.

For Blaine.

And by association, for himself.

Right now Burt Hummel was the rock of strength. The person with the most experience in these unpleasant but all too real matters.

This time, he thought begrudgingly of himself - He could not and would not fall.  
"Kurt," he said quickly as he reached the top and paused to catch his breath.

"Is he… Is Blaine… I - " Burt tilted his head minutely towards what he figured must be the bedroom, which in turn meant that the balcony was somewhere through it.

Kurt nodded his head almost imperceptibly and made some kind of unclear gesture towards that same general direction with his arms and trembling hands before flinching as a rogue whimper escaped the lips that were clamped solidly between his teeth.

At that Burt moved forward quickly and enveloped his son in the best bear like hug he knew to give.

Kurt nearly broke down completely at this and Burt patted his son's shoulder comfortingly before moving speedily and without another word into the bedroom and then out onto the balcony which thank goodness was not hard to find.

The sight that met him on the balcony though, was one of those nightmares that would never let him go, from this moment onwards.

It became seared into his brain.

His memories.

His reasoning.

From now on, it would be everything.

And though Burt Hummel hadn't the slightest inkling of what he was supposed to do in a situation like this, and even though his heart was caught uncomfortably in the back of his throat, Burt Hummel rushed forward now towards the dark haired boy on the ground in slow motion, so as not to startle him into something rash and panic driven.

Burt Hummel would remember this for the rest of his life.

That moment when he wasn't sure he had made it in time.

The adrenaline rush as his his shaking hand made quiet contact and he thought guiltily about his own son in a similar situation.

How horrifying that would be.

The phone in his shop ringing that day.

A stranger on the other end of the line calling the person he cared about most in the world a fag.

Blaine Anderson laying in front of him, unmoving on the ground.

But there was a pulse.

There had to be.

As his fingers tried to dial three numbers through the shakiest of hands.

There had to be.

As he thought of the boy as a son of his own and of at least 3 people that loved him to death and how maybe now Blaine would never be able to know it.

911.

The numbers burned through the pads of his fingertips and right through the phone.

And then he waited.

Waited.

Waited.

Waited.


	5. Chapter 5

Burt Hummel had never felt time move so slowly.

Then there was a soft singing that he hadn't noticed in the minutes that seemed like hours as they waited. Only slightly arousing from his stunned reverie, Burt took a moment to really listen, and before he knew it - understanding hit.

It was his son.

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_.

The words were choked, but still somehow beautifully in tune.

Burt didn't know much about music.

Not much more than the track listings on his old Creedence vinyl.

But Burt knew his son.

More than anything.

And as he listened to the music, so mournful and tragic that it almost broke his heart, Burt understood the guilt and pain.

"Kurt," the father whispered quietly.

The notes faded slowly.

"There's a moment Dad," Kurt spoke almost inaudibly.

"There's a moment when you say to yourself —"

There was a pause as Kurt choked back a sob, walking slowly towards the broken boy laying before him on the hard, cement ground.

"When you say to yourself - oh, there you are, I've been looking for you forever." At this Kurt bit his lip, lapsing into silence with the overwhelming memories that were passing through all too quickly.

Time was running out.

There was something he had to do.

Falling down onto his knees, ignoring the sharp pain that hit them, Kurt leaned over the prone body and took one of Blaine'd cold, frozen hands in his own while balancing precariously on the other. Balance threatened to collapse around him as he leaned - closer and closer - but at that moment Kurt Hummel could have cared less. The shallow pulse that patted underneath the soft touch of his thumb was comforting, but Kurt knew that at this point, it could mean nothing.

Tears began to stream down his pale cheeks as he leaned in closer - the cold causing his breath to come in vacant white clouds that disappeared quickly into the twilight that had surrounded them without their notice.

Burt Hummel remained silent.

A lone tear trickled down his own cheek at the scene before him.

"Watching you do 'Beauty School Drop Out,' Blaine — it sounds so silly because what an unfitting song for someone so beautiful to sing but Blaine — that was a moment for me, about you."

Kurt's voice broke.

He tasted salt on his chapped lips.

"You moved me, Blaine Anderson. And I can tell you right here and now without a doubt in my mind that this is why you can't go. This is why you'll come back Blaine. COME BACK."

Kurt was on the verge of hysteria as he leaned in for a slow, desperate kiss.

He had no idea what kind of effect this might have on Blaine's present condition. Perhaps it was the complete opposite of what he needed, but Kurt knew better than to think that it mattered.

Blaine was in trouble.

What if he never saw those hazel eyes again?

What if…. what if…

Kurt couldn't think.

He felt his father's gentle hand on his shoulder and reached up to grab it fiercely.

"It'll be all right, son" the older man said.

And Kurt could barely understand that his father was crying too.

"He'll be alright, we all will, but especially him Kurt."

A man who did not know their recent troubles or the cause.

A man who Kurt trusted more than anyone else in the world.

A man who never spoke anything but the truth.

"Everything's going to be alright."

Burt kissed the top of his son's head as sirens finally sounded in the distance.

_Blackbird, fly._

It would be a night of struggle and hurt that seemed like it would never end.

But it would.

And one day - one day, maybe…

Everything would be finally be okay.

_Take these broken wings_.


End file.
